


Never Go Drinking With Sherlock (Unless You Have The Keys to His Handcuffs)

by toesohnoes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2011-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wakes up the morning after a night out with Sherlock. Sherlock is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Go Drinking With Sherlock (Unless You Have The Keys to His Handcuffs)

**Author's Note:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/10282731943/john-wakes-slowly-and-unwillingly-his-head-is).

John wakes slowly and unwillingly.

His head is pounding. He can’t fully remember, but it seems reasonable to assume that a freight train ran over it last night. It’s the only reasonable explanation for this headache.

“Sherlock?” he mumbles.

The last thing he remembers is heading out to a pub with Sherlock at his side.

That does, unfortunately, mean that Sherlock could be anywhere by this point.

An annoying, insistent tugging at his wrist makes him open his eyes and squint towards it. The sight that greets him makes him blink a few times in a struggle to work out what exactly he is seeing.

Handcuffs. Being friends with Sherlock, handcuffs aren’t too uncommon. Instead of his wrists being handcuffed together, or to an inanimate object, he finds himself locked to another person’s wrist. He rubs his eyes with the back of his free hand, and then pulls his wrist to see if there’s any give.

There isn’t.

“We need to see Lestrade when you’re ready,” says the body in the next bed.

“Sherlock?” John mumbles again.

“I don’t have my phone,” Sherlock says. He sounds far too alert this early in the morning. What time is it anyway? “I think I lost it in the third pub we went to.”

John groans at the faint memory. The handcuffs rattle between them. “You must know how to pick locks,” he says, “Right?”

Sherlock murmurs his assent, but makes no move to free either of them. John says his name once more, and shakes his wrist to make sure he has the man’s attention.

“You’re in little state to move,” Sherlock points out. “And I need to think.”

“You can’t think with the cuffs off?”

Sherlock gives no sign of hearing him. “There’s a glass of water by your bed,” Sherlock says. “Should help with the hangover.”

John temporarily puts aside the Mystery of How He Became Handcuffed To Sherlock and reaches for the glass. He drinks while Sherlock thinks, and in the space between them their hands rock back and forth.


End file.
